Selfless
by OrganizedChaos666
Summary: Sherlock/OC Emily Midfell is an optimistic woman who happens to be sent by Mycroft Holmes to keep an eye on his so called sociopath brother. Unfortunately for Sherlock, she is not someone he can easily deduce. MATURE FOR DRUG ABUSE (Anyone who watches the show knows this)
1. My Neighbor, the Sociopath

"Mycroft I am not a babysitter," I groaned.

"You'll like him," Lestrade insisted.

"Not you too Lestrade, you said it yourself. The man's a psychopath."

"Sociopath," Mycroft muttered under his breath.

I sat and rubbed my temples, staring at the lease form sitting on the table before me. It was for 221C Baker Street. The two men before were practically begging me to move there, going so far as to offer to pay the rent for the first few months. It all seemed great until I realized who lived next door. It's not like I hated the men, there are very few people I hate. I have merely heard of the ruckus they cause on a weekly basis.

"You pay the rent?" I questioned defeated.

"For the first year," Mycroft agreed.

"Why?"

"He needs a friend," Lestrade chipped in.

"So you're paying off some poor girl to become friends with your brother? Wish I had a sibling like you," I laughed.

Holmes shrugged with a sheepish grin.

"I also need you to keep an eye on him."

So there it is. He needed a spy. With a sigh, I gripped the pen in my hand so tightly it nearly snapped before using it to scribble my signature onto the form. After all, I needed a change of scenery and police work always interested me. Most people thought I was too friendly to be part of any secret operations, making me perfect for the job.

"Perfect," Mycroft clapped, shooting me a smile.

"Don't sound so excited. You two practically cornered me," I huffed, knowing I had been manipulated.

The two men grinned and the air of the room grew stale. 

"If you will excuse me, I have to pack," I said, pushing myself from the comfortable chair onto my feet.

"Already done," Mycroft informed.

"For gods sake man. Privacy!" I exclaimed, shooting a playful glare in the direction of the eldest Holmes brother.

"Instead, I will be bringing you to see your new place.-"

Mycroft's phone rang, interrupting him before I could. The smile he bore quickly melted into a scowl and his eyes lost their childish gleam. Something needed his attention and he did not fancy being interrupted. He hung up the phone and sent me an apologetic smile.

"Scratch that. Lestrade will take you."

"I will?"

"You will," Mycroft ordered.

And with that, the playful aura was gone. Unfortunately, Lestrade had been a little late on catching the memo which allowed him to be the target of his superior's annoyance. As Mycroft turned to leave, I grabbed him by the arm and held him in place. His eyes narrowed as my gaze met his own. With an innocent smile, I embraced him in a warm hug. It only took a moment for him to return it. I tended to have that effect on people.

"You know I hate when you leave like that," I mumbled, patting him on the back before giving him a light shove in the direction of the door.

He exited with a wave and a less murderous expression donning his features. I looked to Lestrade and hooked my arm with his playfully.

"Onward!" I cheered, dragging him outside to his car. Mycroft had picked me up in his own and apparently my vehicle resided at Baker Street so there wasn't much of a choice. We were on our way to my new home almost immediately, sending me into a slight panic.

"He isn't going to shoot me is he?" I asked Lestrade for the third time.

"NO. Sherlock Holmes will not shoot you. What makes you think that?"

"To be fair, his brother did and Sherlock is supposedly worse," I groaned.

Silence was his only response. How reassuring. As he drove, my thoughts only became worse.

"Will he experiment on me?"

Lestrade remained silent for a moment and had a thoughtful expression on his face. Great, I am going to die. Lord help me. I was so lost in my own mind that I did not notice when we finally stopped until Lestrade poked me.

"Time to go," I muttered, stepping out of the car and into the cool outside air.

"Come with me?" I asked.

"Nope," he responded, shooting me a grin before driving off so quickly that his tires screeched.

I groaned in frustration but could not help but giggle at the way the two professional men acted so playful and childish around me. It was nice to be a friend to people. With a smile adorning my face, I raised my fist to knock on the wooden door before me. Before I made contact, the door swung open and my fist tapped against a chest. It was a tall man with curly dark hair and startling blue eyes.

"Sherlock," I smiled, only to have the door nearly shut in my face.

"Rude," I added, shoving the door open and looking around for the landlady, Ms. Hudson.

Sherlock stood in between me and the door, inspecting me as one might inspect a crime scene. It wasn't long before he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"I see you think you know me Mr. Holmes. Would you care to share your findings?" I asked happily.

"My brother sent you. You drove here in Lestrade's car. You live alone but are quite the animal person as you have a pet cat, a dog, and a horse. Fairly social but also pretty boring. You work at a coffee shop- wait no. He would not have sent a barista. You work with my brother but happen to visit the coffee shop frequently. You are right handed and are currently in a relationship."

"Why did I move here?" I questioned.

"My brother sent you and you wanted a change of scenery."

"Nice," I smiled at him.

"Are you not impressed?" he asked, seeming baffled.

"You got some of it correct but still have yet to say anything relevant about my personality. By the way, the cat's not mine," I shrugged as Ms. Hudson entered the room.

Sherlock retreated to his room solemnly, seeming quite upset that he was not completely correct about me. In the meantime, I handed the contract to Ms. Hudson and headed up to my new room where I found my husky puppy, Echo, waiting for me. Apparently, Mycroft had convinced the landlady to allow my dog to stay here despite the rules against pets in the building. My belongings had already been unpacked an set up, from the fridge and table to my dresser and underwear drawer. Pervert. I flopped down on the couch and allowed Echo to curl up beside me as I pulled my phone from my back pocket and texted Mycroft.

 _Hope everything is going well. Thank you for_

 _getting everything set up and making sure_

 _that Echo could stay_

 _EM_

The message sent and I was finally getting comfortable on the couch when Sherlock burst in, looking like an addict who needed a fix.

"What did I get wrong?" he questioned angrily, causing Echo to raise her head and growl in defiance.

I ran my hand over her back gently to calm her before grabbing her toy off of the floor and waving it in front of her nose, gaining her attention for a moment. Ultimately, her attention returned to the unfamiliar man before us.

"Silly puppy. He isn't a danger," I said playfully, as though I was talking to a child.

"Tell me," he seethed.

As soon as I began to speak he shushed me.

"My brother sent you to look after me, that much is certain. You are single but haven't been for long," he said hopefully.

"I guess you could say that," I laughed, throwing Echo's toy across the room absent mindedly.

Echo ran after it happily and played alone in the corner of the room as Sherlock and I stared at each other. He seemed to ponder something for a moment before breaking the silence again.

"Selfless," he concluded.

I nodded in agreement before scanning the man before me.

"I assume you believe I am quite air headed, but may I make a deduction?" I asked carefully, gesturing for him to sit in the chair across from the couch.

He scoffed in response, looking quite arrogant as he took a seat. "Have at it," he laughed.

I looked over him once more for a moment. Arrogant, cocky, rude, and clever were the first things that came to mind. Despite his clean appearance, I noticed a small amount of rosin residue on his coat.

"Violinist. I would say _former_ drug addict but I suppose one never truly stops being addicted. You have merely learned how to cope. You preferred shooting up over most others," I mused.

He nodded but looked quite unimpressed. 'What are you Sherlock Holmes?' I thought to myself before meeting his eyes with my own.

"Ah.." I realized, sending Sherlock a sympathetic smile which caused him to return it with a questioning glance.

"Alone."


	2. Employed

"Mycroft I am not a babysitter," I groaned.

"You'll like him," Lestrade insisted.

"Not you too Lestrade, you said it yourself. The man's a psychopath."

"Sociopath," Mycroft muttered under his breath.

I sat and rubbed my temples, staring at the lease form sitting on the table before me. It was for 221C Baker Street. The two men before were practically begging me to move there, going so far as to offer to pay the rent for the first few months. It all seemed great until I realized who lived next door. It's not like I hated the men, there are very few people I hate. I have merely heard of the ruckus they cause on a weekly basis.

"You pay the rent?" I questioned defeated.

"For the first year," Mycroft agreed.

"Why?"

"He needs a friend," Lestrade chipped in.

"So you're paying off some poor girl to become friends with your brother? Wish I had a sibling like you," I laughed.

Holmes shrugged with a sheepish grin.

"I also need you to keep an eye on him."

So there it is. He needed a spy. With a sigh, I gripped the pen in my hand so tightly it nearly snapped before using it to scribble my signature onto the form. After all, I needed a change of scenery and police work always interested me. Most people thought I was too friendly to be part of any secret operations, making me perfect for the job.

"Perfect," Mycroft clapped, shooting me a smile.

"Don't sound so excited. You two practically cornered me," I huffed, knowing I had been manipulated.

The two men grinned and the air of the room grew stale. 

"If you will excuse me, I have to pack," I said, pushing myself from the comfortable chair onto my feet.

"Already done," Mycroft informed.

"For gods sake man. Privacy!" I exclaimed, shooting a playful glare in the direction of the eldest Holmes brother.

"Instead, I will be bringing you to see your new place.-"

Mycroft's phone rang, interrupting him before I could. The smile he bore quickly melted into a scowl and his eyes lost their childish gleam. Something needed his attention and he did not fancy being interrupted. He hung up the phone and sent me an apologetic smile.

"Scratch that. Lestrade will take you."

"I will?"

"You will," Mycroft ordered.

And with that, the playful aura was gone. Unfortunately, Lestrade had been a little late on catching the memo which allowed him to be the target of his superior's annoyance. As Mycroft turned to leave, I grabbed him by the arm and held him in place. His eyes narrowed as my gaze met his own. With an innocent smile, I embraced him in a warm hug. It only took a moment for him to return it. I tended to have that effect on people.

"You know I hate when you leave like that," I mumbled, patting him on the back before giving him a light shove in the direction of the door.

He exited with a wave and a less murderous expression donning his features. I looked to Lestrade and hooked my arm with his playfully.

"Onward!" I cheered, dragging him outside to his car. Mycroft had picked me up in his own and apparently my vehicle resided at Baker Street so there wasn't much of a choice. We were on our way to my new home almost immediately, sending me into a slight panic.

"He isn't going to shoot me is he?" I asked Lestrade for the third time.

"NO. Sherlock Holmes will not shoot you. What makes you think that?"

"To be fair, his brother did and Sherlock is supposedly worse," I groaned.

Silence was his only response. How reassuring. As he drove, my thoughts only became worse.

"Will he experiment on me?"

Lestrade remained silent for a moment and had a thoughtful expression on his face. Great, I am going to die. Lord help me. I was so lost in my own mind that I did not notice when we finally stopped until Lestrade poked me.

"Time to go," I muttered, stepping out of the car and into the cool outside air.

"Come with me?" I asked.

"Nope," he responded, shooting me a grin before driving off so quickly that his tires screeched.

I groaned in frustration but could not help but giggle at the way the two professional men acted so playful and childish around me. It was nice to be a friend to people. With a smile adorning my face, I raised my fist to knock on the wooden door before me. Before I made contact, the door swung open and my fist tapped against a chest. It was a tall man with curly dark hair and startling blue eyes.

"Sherlock," I smiled, only to have the door nearly shut in my face.

"Rude," I added, shoving the door open and looking around for the landlady, Ms. Hudson.

Sherlock stood in between me and the door, inspecting me as one might inspect a crime scene. It wasn't long before he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"I see you think you know me Mr. Holmes. Would you care to share your findings?" I asked happily.

"My brother sent you. You drove here in Lestrade's car. You live alone but are quite the animal person as you have a pet cat, a dog, and a horse. Fairly social but also pretty boring. You work at a coffee shop- wait no. He would not have sent a barista. You work with my brother but happen to visit the coffee shop frequently. You are right handed and are currently in a relationship."

"Why did I move here?" I questioned.

"My brother sent you and you wanted a change of scenery."

"Nice," I smiled at him.

"Are you not impressed?" he asked, seeming baffled.

"You got some of it correct but still have yet to say anything relevant about my personality. By the way, the cat's not mine," I shrugged as Ms. Hudson entered the room.

Sherlock retreated to his room solemnly, seeming quite upset that he was not completely correct about me. In the meantime, I handed the contract to Ms. Hudson and headed up to my new room where I found my husky puppy, Echo, waiting for me. Apparently, Mycroft had convinced the landlady to allow my dog to stay here despite the rules against pets in the building. My belongings had already been unpacked an set up, from the fridge and table to my dresser and underwear drawer. Pervert. I flopped down on the couch and allowed Echo to curl up beside me as I pulled my phone from my back pocket and texted Mycroft.

 _Hope everything is going well. Thank you for_

 _getting everything set up and making sure_

 _that Echo could stay_

 _EM_

The message sent and I was finally getting comfortable on the couch when Sherlock burst in, looking like an addict who needed a fix.

"What did I get wrong?" he questioned angrily, causing Echo to raise her head and growl in defiance.

I ran my hand over her back gently to calm her before grabbing her toy off of the floor and waving it in front of her nose, gaining her attention for a moment. Ultimately, her attention returned to the unfamiliar man before us.

"Silly puppy. He isn't a danger," I said playfully, as though I was talking to a child.

"Tell me," he seethed.

As soon as I began to speak he shushed me.

"My brother sent you to look after me, that much is certain. You are single but haven't been for long," he said hopefully.

"I guess you could say that," I laughed, throwing Echo's toy across the room absent mindedly.

Echo ran after it happily and played alone in the corner of the room as Sherlock and I stared at each other. He seemed to ponder something for a moment before breaking the silence again.

"Selfless," he concluded.

I nodded in agreement before scanning the man before me.

"I assume you believe I am quite air headed, but may I make a deduction?" I asked carefully, gesturing for him to sit in the chair across from the couch.

He scoffed in response, looking quite arrogant as he took a seat. "Have at it," he laughed.

I looked over him once more for a moment. Arrogant, cocky, rude, and clever were the first things that came to mind. Despite his clean appearance, I noticed a small amount of rosin residue on his coat.

"Violinist. I would say _former_ drug addict but I suppose one never truly stops being addicted. You have merely learned how to cope. You preferred shooting up over most others," I mused.

He nodded but looked quite unimpressed. 'What are you Sherlock Holmes?' I thought to myself before meeting his eyes with my own.

"Ah.." I realized, sending Sherlock a sympathetic smile which caused him to return it with a questioning glance.

"Alone."


	3. Drunken Mistakes (Nearly)

**WARNING: SUICIDE, DRINKING, SEXUAL OCCURRENCES, MENTIONS OF SEX :P**

My shoes tapped against the tiled floor of the asylum loudly, the sound echoing through the hall as I headed to my patient's room. He had been placed on lock down in one of the older rooms. When I reached the door, I took in a small breath of air and plastered a cheery smile on my face before using my card to unlock the door.

"Good morning George," I greeted, swinging the heavy metal door inwards.

The clipboard fell from my hands and clattered on the tile loudly as I absorbed the sight before me. My patient was hanging from the ceiling light by a bed sheet with his neck snapped and his head at an unnatural angle. George's black hair fell over his pale face as wet strings and his eyes were permanently closed. This was one of the few rooms that had not been refurnished to avoid the possibility of incidents such as the one before me. Hopefully, I raised my hand up to his pale wrist and pressed to find a pulse, but there was none.

"Shit," I whispered, turning on my heel and shouting through the hospital.

"Jones!" I yelled, barging into his office breathlessly and pointing in the direction of the patient's room.

"Willis. Some dumbass put him in one of the older rooms," I wheezed.

The look on my face seemed to convey the rest as my boss stood to his full height, his blue eyes piercing through me like daggers. He called a few workers over the intercom and took off towards George's room with me close behind, my signature smile wiped off my face. When we reached the room, Jones let out a groan of anger at the sight. I looked anywhere but the body, unwilling to look at the dead face of my patient. My boss shot me a look of sympathy as a few more employees arrived, one fainting and the other calling the policeman we had on site.

"Em, you can go home. Just relax today, I'll find out who moved him to this room." 

I nodded in silent thanks and headed out of the asylum quickly, my stomach threatening to empty itself of my breakfast. When I made it to my car, I realized that it was already 5 p.m. As the horror of the suicide continued to plague my thoughts, I chose to drive to the nearest bar. A drink was in my hand moments after I took a seat at the bar. My eyes scanned the room over the rim of my glass as I took a small sip, before closing as I downed the entire glass. The liquid burned for only a second before it was washed down by another glass. I was already slightly tipsy when the one and only Mycroft Holmes sat on the stool next to me, holding out another drink which I took and chugged greedily.

"What brings you here, Em?" he questioned lightly, leaning his umbrella on the side of the counter.

I shot him a warning glare before turning back to the bartender to drown my sorrows in more alcohol. For the next hour, Mycroft sat beside me obediently, as though guarding me from the pigs that frequented such places. By the time the stress had been diminished, my wallet was nearly drained of cash. Despite only being a bit drunk, I began flirting with the gorgeous bartender who had been serving me. Mycroft then took me by the arm and gently led me out to his car with a sigh. For the first time in a long time, he was driving himself around. There was no limo driven by a personal chauffeur, so it was only the two of us in the vehicle. 

"Mycrooffttt," I hiccuped as he pulled out of the parking lot.

There was no response from the ice man as we headed to baker street. I anxiously poked at his side in an attempt to get his attention.

"What do you want?" he asked monotonously, his voice slightly wavering from the alcohol he too had consumed.

"You," I said confidently, the alcohol fueling my desire for anything but horror.

His eyes widened for a millisecond and his pupils dilated before he turned his gaze back to the road, shaking his head. His hands were clenched so tightly on the wheel that his knuckles began to turn white. Bravely, I placed my hand on his leg and let out an innocent giggle as a small sigh left his lips. Still, he would not look at me.

"Mycroooftttt," I moaned gently, running my hand slowly up his leg and resting it at the top of his thigh.

I stared at his face proudly as he slowly lost control and looked at me.

"Em-" he started.

I held a finger to his mouth to shush him as we reached my flat.

"Come inside?" I pouted, giving his growing erection a slight squeeze before exiting the vehicle.

My hips swayed as I walked, capturing the attention of the elder Holmes brother. At the moment I was too drunk to care who he was. I entered my flat and laid on my bed, my legs opened slightly. A grin crept its way onto my face as I heard the door open, followed by the rushed footsteps of Holmes.

"What are you doing in her flat?" Sherlock's voice broke the silence and cut the footsteps short.

"I-" Mycroft attempted to explain but I assumed his appearance told everything that needed to be known.

'Get. out." Sherlock hissed, making me groan in annoyance.

The sound of a drunken Mycroft making his way down the stairs informed me of the man's departure. Sherlock himself slammed my door open, causing me to shoot up and nearly fall over. This was not the most oppurtune time to be drunk.

"Why did you do that?" I groaned, genuinely pissed that my distraction had been sent away by Sherlock.

"You're drunk," he said darkly, his tone dangerously low.

The man before me was breathing heavily and looked rather disheveled. He was dressed in typical sleep attire, loose pants and a shirt that looked like he had just thrown on. Unfortunately, the expression on his face was nearly murderous.

"Why so angry?" I hiccuped, leaning back against the wooden headboard of my bed.

He shook his head slowly and brought his gaze up to meet my own hazed one.

"Sherlock I needed that," I sighed, tears threatening to escape as I remembered the lifeless body of George Willis.

The man let out a shaky sigh before walking towards me slowly, the way one might approach a cornered animal as I curled into a fetal position against my bed. Surprisingly, I was wrapped in a quick warm embrace. Drunken tears streamed down my face as he held me.

"What happened at work today Emily?" he asked gently, his voice still as low as ever.

"Ask me tomorrow," I begged, my voice wavering as I wiggled out of the hug and sank down into my mattress, leaving Sherlock confused.

"Em-" he started, only to be cut short by a pleading glance from me.

Sherlock nodded curtly, his curls bouncing slightly as he did so. I giggled and pulled the blanket from under me.

"Stay?" I asked drowsily, the alcohol finally sending me off into sleep.

My eyes were closed by the time he sank down into the mattress next to me. I could only imagine how confused the poor man was in the face of an emotional drunk woman, seeing as he knew nearly nothing about human nature. I was enveloped with a wave of heat when he pulled the blanket over us, but still felt cold. In a desperate search for warmth, I turned over and curled into Sherlock's side before letting out a sigh of content as the alcohol induced sleep overwhelmed me.


	4. Late Nights

The image of George plagued my dreams when the alcohol wore off and woke me from my originally peaceful sleep. My body was overcome with tremors as I tried to survey my surroundings in the dark bedroom, my head pounding mercilessly. The warmth emanating from the body next to me was the only thing that kept me from moving.

"Emily?" a groggy voice questioned from beside me, making me jump slightly.

"Sorry Sherlock," I whispered, rolling over to the other side of the bed.

An arm quickly snaked around my waist and pulled me back towards Sherlock roughly, evoking a screech and a slight feeling of panic from me.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sounding very awake for what was most likely around four in the morning.

I shook my head in response and buried my face into his bare chest before realizing he could not see me, so I mumbled a short response.

"I'm sure you can tell, Sherlock," I whispered.

"Something happened at work today. You work in a mental hospital where strange and unsettling sights are common, so what is it that has you in a state of distress?"

"Some dumbass allowed my patient to be placed in a non secure room where he hung himself from the light fixture," I breathed out quickly.

Before the man could say a word, my phone rang from my nightstand. The ringtone was one I had not heard in some time, but it made me shoot up and snatch the phone instantly to answer.

"Abby, Sam and Dean need your help," the deep voice on the other end stated.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the headboard, giving Sherlock an apologetic look.

"Cas, it's 4am."

"I'm sorry," he said exhaustedly.

A grunt of pain came from his end as I opened my mouth to speak, making me rethink my words.

"Are you ok?"

The man ignored my question and took a deep breath before responding.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in England for God's sake Cas. The address is 221C Baker Street, what did the boys get themselves into this time?" I sighed.

The call dropped and a man in a trench coat was standing at the foot of my bed, making Sherlock jump as I groaned.

"Cas we've been over this," I said as I flicked on the light, revealing a bloodied Cas swaying in the center of the room.

"Shit," I sighed, pushing off of the bed and onto my feet to support the angel.

"What the hell?" Sherlock asked, seemingly questioning his soberness.

"It's a long story," I said, grabbing Cas lightly by the shoulders and bringing him to the bathroom while Sherlock stared after us.

"Shirt. Off," I ordered, sitting him down on the edge of the bathtub.

The angel did not seem to be lucid, and simply shrugged off his coat before staring blankly into the wall. Sighing, I tugged his bloody shirt off of him carefully before throwing it onto the floor. This revealed the many scratches and burns lining his torso as well as a deep wound in his stomach. All of which were the work of an angel blade, so mortal medicine would not do much to help him. Taking the angel's hand in my own, I tried to get his attention.

"Cas, you need to heal yourself."

The angel merely nodded and I moved his hand onto my shoulder and placed my forehead against his.

"Sherlock," I addressed the man who was standing rigid in the door frame.

"This is going to weaken me, please make sure he takes a shower afterwards," I said.

Sherlock tilted his head in confusion as Castiel whispered an apology before reaching out for my soul, making me cry out in pain.

"Get away from her," Sherlock spat, taking a step forward only to be stopped in his tracks by a pleading look from me as darkness overtook my vision.

"I'm so sorry," were the last words I heard from Castiel as I fell unconscious.

When I woke up, I was greeted by the sight of Sherlock holding a gun to Castiel's head boredly. The angel was clean and dressed hilariously in an outfit of Sherlock's.

"Sherlock it's alright," I promised, rolling off of the bed and pulling a weary Cas to his feet.

"Oh don't pout, it wouldn't do anything to him anyways," I mused at Sherlock's annoyed expression.

The detective lowered the gun to his side and opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him.

"Monsters are real. Heaven, hell, purgatory are all real. The Men of Letters keep the supernatural population here low by killing anything and setting traps. Castiel here, happens to be an angel," I said slowly.

Without waiting for his reaction, I turned my attention back to Cas.

"Why the hell does it look like you went through a meat grinder made of angel blades? What did the boys get themselves into this time?"

"We were taking out an active nest of vampires. A group of angels who still hold my faults against me have been tracking me and managed to find me while we were trying to destroy the nest. My brothers nearly killed me and the Winchesters got themselves captured by the time I dealt with them. More angels were on their way and I was too weak to fight. I told you I would only call if we were in serious danger," he responded lowly.

"You and the Winchesters are always in serious danger Cas."

My harsh statement left the angel looking crestfallen and the detective very confused. I took in a deep breath and grabbed the angel blade from under my bed along with a machete.

"It's alright, I haven't seen the boys in a while anyways. Let's go save their asses," I grinned a bit manically.

Castiel nodded, a bit wary of my optimism as he reached for my shoulder.

"Wait-" Sherlock yelled, grabbing my arm as Castiel zapped us to Sam and Dean.

Fortunately, most of the vampires were dead. Unfortunately, there were three armed angels standing above the Winchesters who sat tied to wooden beams. Sherlock had been brought into the fray with us, his eyes wide in shock as Cas dropped his angel blade from his sleeve into his hand.

"Hello boys," I smirked, raising the knife and charging at one of the angels as though to stab him, only to slice the rope holding Sam and retreat as he untied his brother.

"Sherlock what the hell," I groaned, realizing that the detective had managed to come with us into the heart of a soon to be battle.

An angel charged me as I was distracted, but Sherlock's expression warned me. I sidestepped the male angel and planted my blade in his back. I did not remove it until the flickering light stopped, signalling his death. Dean had come up from behind the second angel as Castiel fought the other, however; the Winchester was unarmed. Silently, I tossed the blade to Dean before pushing a bleeding Sam and confused Sherlock behind me protectively. When the angels were killed, Cas immediately zapped all of us back to my flat.

"Cas, if you are not aware, this is a rather small place to be sending all of us," I said, exasperation laced in my tone.

"Em," Sherlock warned, just as Sam fell against the wall in a bloody heap.

"Nice place you've got here. Looks like you made it out," Dean mused as Castiel healed his brother.

"I thought I did," I said coldly.

The silence was heavy, but was soon lifted when a smile broke across Dean's face.

"I missed you sis," he grinned, opening his arms which allowed me to embrace him in a rough hug.

"I missed you guys too," I said as I pulled away to give Sam a gently hug as he swayed tiredly.

"You too Cas," I laughed, jumping into the angel's arms and catching him by surprise but he caught me and held me in the air for a moment before placing me on the ground.

"Look guys, it's been nice to see you but you all look and smell like death so kindly get out of my flat. Go back to the bunker and sleep," I ordered, nodding at Cas who zapped himself and the boys away before they could say anything.

"So..." I said nervously, turning to face Sherlock.

"I'm high," he said, rubbing his eyes and flopping onto the bed.

The detective screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to fall asleep, however; it was more likely that he ended up in his mind palace as his brain went into overdrive while trying to comprehend the existence of the supernatural. Cautiously, I changed my shirt and slid into the bed beside him.


	5. Scene of the Crime

The next day consisted of saying goodbye to Sherlock and a very long nap. I woke up to the door of 221B slamming shut and the sound of footsteps going up the stairs. Simultaneously, my phone buzzed on my nightstand. It was Sherlock. Unlocking it with a lazy swipe of my thumb, I read the message.

 _You free to come to a crime scene?_

 _I could use your help._

 _-SH_

A knock on my door made me leap to my feet before tripping over my blanket and collapsing onto the floor. Echo immediately took advantage of the situation and licked my face furiously before barking at the door.

"You alright?" Sherlock's voice asked.

I only groaned in response as the door swung open, revealing my sleep deprived self to the detective.

"What's the story?" I questioned as he let himself in, staring down at me.

"There's been a fourth suicide," he said simply, offering me his hand.

I took it and grunted as he pulled me to my feet easily, which unfortunately caused me to stumble into the detective's chest. He wrapped his arms around me to keep me upright while glancing down at me questioningly.

"I'll come, just let me get dressed," I sighed, pushing away from his warm grip tiredly.

"Alright."

The detective stood boredly as I went to grab my clothes before turning to face him.

"Sherlock," I started.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Out," I ordered.

Echo barked in agreement, but wagged her tail happily. It would seem she had grown to like him.

"Oh, I'll wait outside," the detective replied, seemingly embarrassed by his mistake.

A slight hint of a blush seemed to cross his features, but I could not tell as he quickly turned around and shut the door. I shook my head in amusement before tugging my shirt off over my head. My clothes fell to the floor and I changed as quickly as my tired body allowed. My outfit consisted of jeans and a baggy t-shirt because who dresses up to see a crime scene? I took a moment to make an attempt at bringing a brush through my hair but quickly gave up and put it into a messy bun.

"Alright," I said, putting my phone in my back pocket and opening the door to see Sherlock standing there awkwardly.

"It's alright Sherlock," I laughed, patting his arm lightly before heading downstairs and outside with the detective close behind.

John stood outside after having hailed for a cab which was waiting behind him. We stood and greeted each other for a moment before John quickly whispered something into Sherlock's ear and hopping in the cab. I raised my eyebrow quizzically at the detective but got no explanation so I shrugged and headed to the other side of the vehicle. Before I could open the door, Sherlock's hand darted out to do it for me. He smiled uncertainly as he held the door open for me.

"Thank you," I smiled, sliding into the middle seat of the cab before Sherlock sat beside me and closed the door.

I caught John give Sherlock a thumbs up as the cab began driving and laughed lightly, realizing what John had told Sherlock.

"Are you trying to be nice?" I teased, making Sherlock look confused for a moment.

"Is it working?" he asked hopefully.

I laughed and nodded before turning my gaze ahead. As we drove, Sherlock told John and I about his job as a consulting detective. His reaction to John's compliment made it seem as though he had never heard one directed at him before. I smiled at the two men beside me contently until we arrived at our destination. Before leaving the cab, I smiled at the cabbie and thanked him gratefully.

"Good day miss," he smiled back as I exited and walked between John and Sherlock.

Police cars were parked at random and the whole area was cut off with police tape. As we approached the scene, a woman stopped us before the tape.

"Hello freak," she greeted, staring directly at Sherlock who tensed up nearly unnoticeably.

"Excuse me?" I spat, staring her down.

Sherlock placed a hand on my shoulder in warning as the woman shuffled back a step.

"Thought so, bitch," I muttered under my breath as she lifted the tape for us to pass under.

"You're his girl now huh?" she asked as we headed towards the door, speaking ass though it was an insult.

I looked up at Sherlock and winked before turning back to her with a mischievous grin.

"Just play along," I whispered to him.

"Yup," I said, making her look at me uncertainly before dropping her jaw slightly.

The woman spoke into her radio, warning the others that we had arrived.

"Freak's here. Bringing him in."

I said nothing but looked up at Sherlock reassuringly. As much as I am sure he would never admit it, the insult did seem to affect him if only slightly. He walked stiffly beside me as a man exited the building and glared at Sherlock. Ouch. Sherlock doesn't seem to have many friends.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again," the detective greeted.

"This is a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated," Anderson warned angrily, the vein in his forehead nearly bulging as it pulsed.

I zoned out while inspecting Sara after noticing that her knees were rather raw from some kind of rubbing. My attention was brought back just in time to hear of the affair Anderson and Sara were having. Unfortunately, I heard Sherlock's deduction of their sex life.

"Judging by the state of her knees," Sherlock finished.

"You guys are perfect for each other," I smirked, heading inside.

"I could say the same about you," Sara shot back, making me smile and call out over my shoulder.

"Comparing me to a genius is not exactly an insult dear," I laughed, linking my arm with Sherlock's before entering the building.

"Sorry, that was too fun," I apologized, dropping Sherlock's arm gently as the three of us heading up the stairs.

The detective looked down at his now empty arm, seeming a bit unsettled before smiling a bit.

"It was fairly amusing," he agreed.

Despite his limp, John soon reached the top with us where Lestrade was waiting.

"Hey Greg," I greeted, giving the inspector a quick hug before pulling on the blue cover to keep from contamination.

"Hello Em," he replied before discussing the victim with Sherlock as we approached the true crime scene.


End file.
